His Snow
by idreamofdraco
Summary: She only tolerates this blasted season for him. Draco/Ginny. Companion piece to Snow. One-shot.


_Author's Note: Originally written in October 2008 and beta'd by Mars._

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, and terminology belong to JK Rowling.

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**His Snow**

Flaky, wet, white bits swirled around her head, drifting like feathers caught in a draft. Ginny watched the snow, like tiny pieces of silver and as stingingly frigid as the metal, fall lazily with a look of utter distaste on her face. She glared at the sky as if the seasons changed to aggravate her personally. She stood on the porch as still as stone, her hands clenched under her armpits to keep them warm. Blasted weather! Even if she piled on all of her clothes and linens, she would still freeze!

She hated the snow with a passion. Completely detested it. Why the hell did she come outside anyway?

"Come on, Gin! Don't be a spoil sport!"

Oh, that's right. _For him_.

He stood in the middle of their tiny front lawn in nothing more than a crème colored jumper and faded jeans. His light hair, fair skin, and clothes blended in with the unnaturally white environment—fitting for a man who had been labeled as harsh and cold as this season by everyone who didn't know him.

His nose and cheeks weren't red and stinging from the bitter air like hers were. His fingertips weren't nearly blue from frostbite. His eyebrows weren't pointing downwards at his nose, making him look for all the world like a child that hadn't gotten his way. On the contrary, his brow was smooth, free of all agitation and tension—for the first time in... well, in a long time. The smile that he willingly exhibited on his perfect lips made him look younger than he really was, which was pretty young to begin with.

Ginny stared at him with open longing. At this moment, he was so at ease, and it was all thanks to the snow that repulsed her.

"I'm not being a spoil sport," she insisted. "It's more trouble than it's worth, really. We'll get soaked to the bone, completely wet, I say! And it's too cold to be lying around on the ground. Or didn't you notice? There's ice there! No, Draco! I refuse to make snow angels with you!"

His grin widened and his beauty stunned her. It was difficult enough to peer at his fair and flawless face without being blinded, but when he smiled, her heart stopped beating, she forgot to breathe. Surely the whole world waited with bated breath and time ceased to be.

Was it only a year ago that they had hated each other as much as she hated snow?

"If you don't get down here right now, I'm going to come up there and fetch you myself!" he threatened, no threat in his voice.

"Is that a promise, Mr. Malfoy?" she teased back. He was already halfway up the porch stairs. His stride was long and stalking; her heart soared with thrill at the predatory look on his face.

"I guarantee that it is, Miss Weasley," he answered when he stood right in front of her.

Her eyelids fluttered and closed with expectation. One of his hands gently lifted her chin until her face was upturned to his. She knew it was coming but when his lips lightly brushed hers, her whole body erupted in delicious flames that tickled her from her mouth to her toes. Her body swayed towards him but before she could become too involved in his kiss, something hard and cold crashed down on her head. Slick, wet ice saturated her hair and slid down the collar of her jacket until her back was sopping as well. She became a statue, cool and still, until his laughter exploded from his lips, those perfect, perfect lips.

Her glower should have frightened him; he should have run, but instead he doubled over, inconsolably deranged with hysteria. He fell to the ground, laughing at her.

Eyes narrowed—not that he noticed from his state on the floor of the porch—she descended the stairs stiffly, trying to keep her clothes from rubbing against her numbing skin too much. At the bottom of the stairs she bent and lifted a globule of snow in her two hands, carrying it back to the porch as carefully as if she carried a bomb. He suddenly stopped laughing when her pile of snow landed on his face.

He spluttered and stood, his expression deadly and frightening. The feather grey eyes she loved so much turned to unforgiving steel as she met his death stare, her confidence and anger swiftly evaporating into alarm.

She flew down the stairs looking for refuge among the trees and the snow. He followed her, barely two steps behind. She didn't make a sound until the next snowball hit her and then she ran for her life squealing, "_No, no, no, no, no!"_

"Come back here and face me like a man!" he yelled, and she could tell that he was no longer furious. But still, she refused to turn around while he pummeled her with snow.

"Draco! Draco, stop it!" she screamed, her terror taking flight in giggles. She dodged behind a tree but she knew that he could spot her anywhere by her fiery hair. She was proven right when she was hit from her left. Skirting around the side of the tree, she bent down to pick up her own snowball, but the ground suddenly darkened as if the sun had been eclipsed.

She looked up slowly, tracing him from his feet to his face. His expression was triumphant, a happy smirk at home on his mouth. One arm was extended in the air, clutching a weapon most frightening. She was cornered and defenseless.

"Oh, come on, Draco! It was just…a … a silly joke, you know…?"

Whether he believed her or not, she never found out. The snowball smashed onto her head with a wet _Splunk!_

In retaliation, she took him by surprise by tackling him until they were both sprawled on the ground, exactly where Ginny had refused to be since the beginning. In one hand she held a handful of hateful snow, holding it threateningly above his head. His cheeks were now flushed with exertion, like a beautiful porcelain doll with cheeks painted red. His ragged breath was warm against her face. Their chests fought for a rhythm that would put their bodies and breaths into sync. He didn't seem to mind that her weight lightly crushed his body, or that her flaming red hair tickled his neck. She didn't care that her legs were drenched up to her knees, or that her clothes, the ground, and the air were freezing her from the outside in.

She looked into his eyes and she saw the sky that released the snow and she knew it made him happy. She dropped the snow in her hand and crushed her lips to his.


End file.
